


A Winter's Holiday Tale (Les Amis Magical Mistletoe Quest to get Enjolras a Date)

by LittleHandGrenade



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas fic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious idiots would be oblivious, Pininjolras, They do charity, Winter, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 17:28:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8902693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleHandGrenade/pseuds/LittleHandGrenade
Summary: “Let me see if I understand” Courfeyrac says, his honey like eyes fixed on Enjolras face “You spent weeks acting like you didn’t care about him not showing back again because, and I’ll quote you “it’s impossible to have a crush on someone you don’t even know” and now you’re planning some impossible quest to go and find a man you know nothing about in no other day than Christmas Eve?”Said like that, Enjolras has to admit, it kind of sounds like the most dramatic and stupid thing ever. Then again, he likes to think it’s just because of Courfeyrac’s  ability to turn everything he says into something that might as well had been scripted as a part of a soap opera. Still, he nods.Courfeyrac keeps staring at him for a minute before a wide grin spreads all over his face “Oh God, I’m so in.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BadGirlRunningWild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadGirlRunningWild/gifts).



> This fic goes for the traditional Christmas Fanfiction Exchange with my lovely girls BadGirlRunningWild and Starkbuck Girl (and yeah, it's only the second year but it's a tradition, ok?) Just like last year, I had to write a fanfic for BadGirl' and she chose one of the pairings I'm currently obsessing over so... _PERFECT_ (things be told, it's her fault I started obsessing over them in the first place since she introduced me to the fandom back in June so... Shame on you!) I was planning on sticking to the minimun amout of words but as always I lost control of myself and wrote this... thing. I'm not quite sure what it is, I swear I had this idea and it suddenly became another and another and ??? Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and I also hope it didn't end up being too Out of Character (it probably is Out of Character, I just really hope is not THAT much). As always, a good Christmas gift for an author is some kudos, bookmarks and obviously, comments. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the reading and happy holidays everyone :)
> 
>  **Warning** English isn't my first language and I wrote this without a beta 'cause I'm wild ;) ... There's probably some mistakes so eel free to leave a comment telling me of the ones you notice (as long as you do it nicely, I promise I won't bite... hard).

“These people came here trying to escape from the dead and horror that war has been spreading in their homeland for years, as a society that was established in ideals such as fraternity it’s our time to do our part and help, even the smallest of contributions can make a difference in the lives of the thousands of refugees that are living in our country and lack even the most basic goods and services.”

Enjolras takes a breath, frowning at the people that pass by him and the ‘Winter Holidays Fund Collect for Syrian Refugees’ booth, not even sparing him a glance. He’s been standing outside the Louvre since the early morning –one of the locations he and the rest of Les Amis carefully choose for the flow of people that walks by every day. Nonetheless, this hasn’t been as effective as he had thought it would be, the money jar that Jehan decorated with holiday motifs not even at a quarter of its capacity. Then again, he’s never been a quitter not either a pessimistic and it’s barely past midday so there’s still a chance for him to collect more money for the time the museum closes and he has to call it a day.

 _God, he really hopes the others are having more luck than him_.

He takes his phone out from the pocket of his jacket to text Courfeyrac and ask how he and Feuilly are doing with their booth near the Eiffel Tower when a voice distracts him.

“Winter Holidays Fund Collect?” He doesn’t even have to look up to know the person who says it is smirking, yet he still does, arching a blond eyebrow in the direction of the stranger that is standing in front of him. It’s a guy, not much older than him, with dark curls that escape from beneath of his grey beanie, his hands nonchalantly guarded from the cold breeze inside the pockets of his hoodie. He has hazel eyes and a crocked nose and a smug grin that gives Enjolras the urge to punch him or something that would make it disappear. But violence is never his first approach. He’s just about to ask him if he is going to donate or just stand there looking smugly at him when the stranger talks again.

“Was Christmas really that difficult to spell?” he asks, his smile growing wider.

Enjolras feels like his blood is boiling. He rolls his eyes before answering.

“We live in a city with more than two million people which not all celebrate Christmas, this is just trying to make it easier for them to…”

“So politic correctness at its best, isn’t it?” the other guy interrupts, raising both of his eyebrows in amusement.

“Are you going to donate or…?”

Dark, curly hair chuckles.

“If this is the way you’ve asking people for donations there’s no wonder why your jar is practically empty” he laughs and Enjolras, as the completely respectable and functional 23 year old adult he is definitely doesn’t pout.

 _He doesn’t_.

Before he can answer anything –which is pretty much an uncalled event since he’s anything if not eloquent when it comes to words, dark curly hair takes some coins out of the front pockets of his jeans and puts them in the jar still smiling in Enjolras direction.

“Happy _Winter Holidays, ange_ ” he winks at Enjolras before resuming his walking to… wherever he was going before deciding to stop and annoy him. Enjolras frowns, following with his eyes the slender frame of the stranger until it gets lost in the ocean of people.

If he’s blushing, it’s merely because of anger. **Really**.

 

 

Two days later, Paris streets are covered in white. All visible areas are hidden under a thick layer of snow, and it keeps growing as every other minute more snowflakes keep falling fiercely to join its brothers in the ground.

It’s quite a beautiful sight and Enjolras would probably enjoy it if he weren’t freezing the shit out of himself. He regrets haven’t listened to Combeferre that morning when he told him to wear something more than a sweater and his favorite coat, a red knee length garment with golden buttons that has proven to be useless to keep him warm.

He shrinks slightly to cover his reddened nose with his scarf, his gloved hands inside the pockets of his coat.

He considered the idea of taking down the booth and coming back home for another jacket and a warm cup of coffee, but even with the disastrous weather it’s been a good day until now –his jar a little bit above half of its capacity- and he would like the donations to keep flowing like this, so he has resigned himself to stand in his place risking to catch some nasty cold and the obvious scolding that will come with it, courtesy of Joly.

“Are my eyes deceiving me or am I really watching the mighty Apollo standing in the middle of the snow?” Enjolras tells himself he should feel ashamed for recognizing that voice before he can actually see the other guy’s face “Is he here to bless us the simple mortals with his warmth or _holy crap_! You’re freezing.”

He opens his mouth to say that he’s pretty much okay, thank you, but the chattering of his teeth gives away that lie before he can even pronounce it. He frowns, not sure if at himself or at the stranger who gives him a knowing look.

“So it’s freezing to death some kind of strategy to scrap some more money for this stupid winter holiday thing?” he asks and Enjolras snorts.

“It’s not stupid” he answers, forgetting about the cold weather at least for a brief moment “Some of the people we’re collecting this money for are in far worst situations and if what it takes to avoid them the problem in the future is for me to stand in the middle of a snowstorm then I’ll do it.”

Dark and curly seems like he’s about to start laughing but it’s before he takes another look at Enjolras that his eyes widen in what Enjolras isn’t sure if it’s horror or amazement.

“For fuck’s sake, you’re serious” he says to no one in particular “You really believe this actually helps someone else but the pockets of the organizations that put this whole ‘help the one’s in need’ show to convince people they are doing their good deed of the year so they ease their conscience’s for being complete morons the other 364 days.” 

“It’s that why you donated the other day?” he asks, his blue eyes furiously fixed in the face of the other guy, who blushes at the attention.

“Don’t try to change the subject, Apollo” he answers, crossing his arms over his chest.

The blond rolls his eyes at the nickname but decides not to argue about it… yet.

“Since you’re so preoccupied about it” he mutters, taking his wallet out of the back pockets of his jeans and taking from it a folded and a little wrinkled pamphlet that he passes to dark, curly hair hidden under a green beanie “It’s actually our independent organization the one who’s doing this, part of what we do during the year is to raise funds to help different charities and we make sure the money actually goes to the people who will use it for what it was destined.”

The guy’s hazel eyes keep looking from Enjolras to the pamphlet like he can’t comprehend what’s going on. After a few more minutes, in which Enjolras isn’t sure if he really heard the guy mutter something like “ _unbelievable, he’s fuckin’ unbelievable_ ”, the stranger looks back at him with a grin, similar to the one he was displaying the first time they met.

“I really don’t believe in that whole try and save the world crap, like if there’s actually something worth to be saved” he says and thank god doesn’t give Enjolras the time to argue, taking him by surprise with his next action. He watches as dark, curly hair unzips his black jacket covered in patches from bands some of which Enjolras doesn’t recognize and takes it off to put it on Enjolras’ shoulders. It’s heavy and warm from the other man body heat “But you look like a stubborn piece of shit about it, so at least you won’t be a frozen piece of shit when the day’s over” he says, his smile widening and showing the slight gap between his front teeth.

“I can’t” he says, starting to take it off and trying to ignore his body that practically screams at him to stop and keep the source of warmth to himself. The guy might be a total moron, but he doesn’t deserve to freeze just for him to be comfortable.

Dark and curly stops him, putting his hands over Enjolras’ shoulders, his long fingers digging in his shoulder blades.

“I’m going just a few blocks ahead and I won’t need it once I get inside” he shrugs “Let a man do something good, wouldn’t you?”

Enjolras nods and the other guy smiles, though a little shyly this time. He resumes his walk, but comes back after a few moments, two coins hanging between his index and middle finger.

“Wouldn’t risk leaving without offerings and pissing of a God, now would I?”    

 

 

If Enjolras hopes to see the stranger the next day, and the day next to that one and okay, the day next to that one too is merely because he wants to give the jacket back. He has never liked to be in debt with anyone and he would prefer to finish with this by returning the piece of clothing to its owner as soon as possible. That’s the only reason why he feels disappointed… No, not disappointed, _impatient_ when dark and curly doesn’t show for three days straight.

Combeferre had only smiled, hidden behind a heavy philosophy book when he had told him so. On the other hand Courfeyrac’s opinion about the situation is completely ridiculous and totally not worth to recall just like Jehan’s (no need to see why those two are perfect for each other), who kept finding the whole jacket thing as a big romantic gesture which _it wasn’t_. 

The way Enjolras sees it, it was just the man’s way to look a little less like an asshole after the ‘nothing worth saving’ speech. Then again, he also donated money twice. Not that that is relevant because surely some more people have done it, the fact that he can’t remember any of them isn’t exactly relevant.

Neither is the fact that dark and curly is coming in his direction, holding two steamy cups of what seems to be coffee, an unsure smile on his lips.

“Thought you may need some caffeine to keep going with the whole vengeful Christmas angel facade” he says, sliding one of the cups on the booth and taking a sip from the other before adding a mocking “I mean, Winter Holidays angel, wouldn’t want to offend anyone.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes. There’s a ton on things he could say to that and yet the first thing that comes out from his mouth is “You didn’t come for three days” which he can’t decide if it’s more stupid or embarrassing. He can feel his cheeks warming, adding hurriedly a “Your jacket, I’ve been wanting to give back your jacket” He lifts a bag in which he’s been carrying it the last days, handing it to the man. And if Enjolras wasn’t sure it’s totally some trick from his imagination, he would swear dark and curly with a purple beanie looks a little disappointed.

“Don’t lie to me Apollo” he chuckles and Enjolras’ heart seems to stutter for a minute inside his chest “You missed my money but don’t worry” He says, showing the blond a banknote for five euros “I ain’t that heartless, I’m even going to compensate for those lost days” he lets the five euros inside the jar, arching both eyebrows at him “Now drink that before it gets cold.”

Enjolras looks at the forgotten coffee cup that’s lying next to the jar and his eyes immediately catch the name written with black marker, the sloppy calligraphy spelling _Antinous_. He raises an eyebrow at the man in front of him while internally feeling grateful for the cold breeze to which he can blame for his flushed face.

“It’s Enjolras” he murmurs and definitely, today isn’t his day for being eloquent. The other guy looks at him with curiosity and the blond coughs before answering to the unspoken question he can see in the man’s hazel eyes “My name, is Enjolras.”

He smiles, an expression which Enjolras isn’t sure how to read. His smile decreases when he looks at the screen of his phone, turning to Enjolras with a sigh “My apologies Apollo, but don’t worry I’ll make sure to get it right next time.”

When Enjolras stops feeling dumbstruck after those words, which mean dark and curly will eventually be back, he realizes that a) Dark and curly is already gone and b) He never got his name in return, which _rude_.

 

 

“I just don’t get him” he complaints that night, sitting in one of the large velvet sofas at the back of the Musain. Cosette and Musichetta who are sitting next to him turn to give him a confused look. Jehan, who is sitting in the floor in the middle of the two women who are getting his long blond hair braided smiles but doesn’t say anything else.

“What’s got our fearless leader panties in a twist?” asks Bahorel, coming out of nowhere and patting Enjolras’ back stronger that necessarily. His frown deepens at the expression, and he glares at the other man as he allows himself to fall unceremoniously on the loveseat, next to Courfeyrac.

“Enjolras has a crush” the later sing-songs, his eyes never leaving the screen of his laptop.

Cosette turns back at him immediately, eyes wide and a dimpled smile on full display “Oh, Enjolras that’s lovely, what’s his name?”

He tries to ignore the fact that he’s blushing, looking over Cosette’s head to catch a sight of Musichetta “Where’s Joly and Bossuet?” he asks in a completely subtle attempt to change the topic to something else but his _inexistent_ crush on a guy he has only seen three times.

She shrugs before answering “Christmas shopping” with a mysterious smile that probably has a story behind. A story he’s perfectly content without knowing, probably “Now spit it, who’s your secret crush Enj?”

He sinks deeper on his seat, feeling extremely self-conscious with everyone’s eyes but Combeferre’s –who’s sitting in a chair counting the money they have collected that day, fixed on him. If there’s one thing Enjolras knows about his friends is that they’re just as stubborn as he is when they have something in mind, so he should probably make it easier for everyone and spare the inevitable prying on his personal life that will come if he decides to remain silent.

“I don’t know” he answers as nonchalant as he can “It’s not a crush, anyway it’s just a guy who donated money on the past days, that’s it” he glares at Courf, daring him to say anything but it’s Combeferre who interrupts the silence, not even bothering on looking from the notebook where he’s writing some cyphers.  

“He donated money three times” he corrects, smiling “And lent you his jacket, and bought you coffee.”

Bahorel laughs and Cossette is looking at him with hearts in her greyish blue eyes, a reaction similar to the one Jehan had when he heard about the coffee thing just a few hours ago. He’s trapped in a déjà vu, and awful and horrible, déjà vu.

“I told him it was lovely” murmurs Jehan quietly, his head resting on Musichetta’s knee. She smiles at him, crinkles forming around her olive green eyes before she looks back at Enjolras.

“So, are you asking him out?”

He sighs, exasperated.

“He was just being nice!” and for the way everyone in the room looks at him, is obvious he’s the only one to believe it “It’s the definition of charity, people are good with others just out of the goodness of their hearts.”

“Yeah, and they donate money to help the others, they don’t give them jackets to keep them for getting their limbs amputated for frostbite or buy them coffee” replies and equally exasperated Courfeyrac, moving his hands all around to emphasize his words.

“I think it’s unfair” interrupts Feuilly “Enjolras gets to flirt with a stranger and I have to fight with that woman who always tries to steal money from the jar to buy herself a bigger coffee at Starbucks.”

“At least you don’t get to listen to the man who keeps saying we’re supporting terrorists” says Cosette as she rolls her eyes “I swear if he comes back one more time Éponine is going to punch him.”

Enjolras is thankful they all seem to forget about his ‘not-crush’, the conversation diverting to see who has had the most hilarious encounters while doing the charity work. By the time the clock announces the Musain is about to close everyone starts gathering their stuff and say their goodbyes before heading home.

There’s only him and Combeferre left, the man with the glasses saying goodbye to Madame Houcheloup, the owner of the café, before they both are walking shoulder by shoulder in the cold Parisian night. There’s a comfortable silence interrupted once in a while by Combeferre humming something under his breath.

When they finally make it to their apartment Combeferre stops in front of the main door of the building, looking at Enjolras.

“You should ask him out, you know?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Combeferre looks at him, his right eyebrow arched before shaking his head “If you say so.”

 

 

Enjolras isn’t waiting expectantly the next day. He is, of course, waiting for more people to come and donate some money for this month’s cause but that’s it. If he snaps his head when he hears a laugh that sounds a little familiar just to realize it’s just a man laughing at something the girl he’s walking with told him, it doesn’t mean anything. Neither does the sinking feeling he gets at the pit of his stomach.                

It’s past two when Jehan comes by, a backpack full of food that he delivers to each one of them in their booths every day, cooked by him and Musichetta. Enjolras thanks him and he probably sounds a little put out by the expression on the blond’s face.

“Hasn’t your mystery knight appeared today?” he asks, leaning casually over the small table in the booth.

“It’s been a good day for donations” he answers instead, signaling at the jar. Jehan frowns for a moment and then his expression softens as he lets out a smile, holding one of Enjolras hands between his own.

“It’s still early, he’ll come” he says and Enjolras bites his lower lip, keeping to himself the ‘maybe he won’t. Maybe he was really just being nice.”

“Apollo” comes the voice from behind. Jehan’s eyes light up at that and he gives Enjolras a knowing smile. His hands keep cupping Enjolras’ right hand dark and curly eyes seems to remain fixed on that for a moment. Then he looks back at Enjolras face, a strained smile on his face and shows him a coin.

“My good deed of the day” Dark and curly lets the coin fall inside the jar and waves goodbye, disappearing a few meters ahead in between the people.

Enjolras thinks that weird sensation that is left after that is only in his mind, but the way Jehan looks at him tells him the blond poet also noticed it. He shrugs.

Must be nothing.

 

 

A week passes by and dark and curly doesn’t come back. And it’s okay, really. It’s not like he was obliged to go and give money to a charity he had made clear didn’t really care about. That’s the thing about charities, people give what they want to give whenever they want to do it. He doesn’t want to do it anymore. It’s okay.

 _It’s okay_.

 

 

The funds collect ends on December 21st. By that time, another week has passed and some independent newspaper has written an article about them, signaling the different spots where their booths can be found around the city. It’s a real success and they collect more money than what Combeferre had predicted they would.

They all have reasons to be happy and even if not, they’re certainly busy. With the Christmas Eve party Marius and Cosette are going to host in their new apartment and the last details Les Amis have to check concerning the money they’ve collected, calling to the different shelters and organizations they have to deliver the money to… Everyday seems to pass on a rush and if someone comments anything about Enjolras’ mysterious guy he doesn’t notice.

He doesn’t say anything about it neither but he still feels disappointed he never got another chance to see him in the last two weeks. If it’s because he thought the guy might actually care about the charity or about him, he doesn’t really want to think about.

It’s not like he’s going to see him ever again anyway, so why bother?

Somehow, that doesn’t help him feel any relief. 

 

 

Marius and Cosette’s apartment is actually a pent-house, courtesy of Mr. Fauchelevent, Cosette’s father. It has a wide living room, and in one of the corners there’s a giant artificial pine decorated with silver and purple ornaments according to the rest of the Christmas decoration of the place. The room is bright and warm, with the Christmas lights on in addition to the ones from the lamps that hang from the ceiling and the body heat from all the people who are reunited there.

Courfeyrac and Jehan are sitting together in an armchair, although the right way to say it is that Courfeyrac is sitting on it with Jehan on his lap. Combeferre is standing next to one of the large windows, pointing something in the distance at Feuilly and next to them, Bahorel, Éponine and her boyfriend, Montparnasse are talking, getting louder and louder with every drink they take.

Enjolras is sitting in a large black couch made of what seems to be leather imitation. He lets out a sigh, a half full cup of wine dangling on his left hand.

He looks up, just to see Courfeyrac looking at him.

“Something wrong?” he asks, a concerned expression on his face. Enjolras shakes his head but it doesn’t seem to be enough to convince Courfeyrac, not that Enjolras would have expected it.

“Let me guess, does this have anything to do with that punk who never came back to your booth?”

They both already know the answer to that, so Enjolras decides to remain silent and keep the little dignity he still has regarding this subject. Jehan, who was playing with Courfeyrac’s curls stops and they both turn their attention to him.

“Did you try looking for him?” he asks looking at Enjolras.

He lets out another sigh, this time heavier.

“I wouldn’t know where to start, I don’t even know his name.”

“When has something as small as that stopped you?” Jehan ask and Enjolras isn’t sure but the way Jehan’s looking at him is something as a dare. And Enjolras has never been one to step back “Where did he usually went to after he stopped at your booth?”

“He usually walked to Rue de Rivoli” he answers absently, trying to recall something else from any of his fourth encounters “He had a lot of paint stains on his shirt the day he lent me his jacket.”

“Okay, so he paints and he went somewhere near Rue de Rivoli” Jehan bites his lower lip “Anything else? There’s quite a lot of art galleries and museums near Rue de Rivoli, we would need something a little more…”

“Stop it there you two” cuts Courfeyrac, looking at them with a raised eyebrow “Let me see if I understand” he says, his honey like eyes fixed on Enjolras face “You spent weeks acting like you didn’t care about him not showing back again because, and I’ll quote you “ _it’s impossible to have a crush on someone you don’t even know_ ” and now you’re planning some impossible quest to go and find a man you know nothing about in no other day than Christmas Eve?”

Said like that, Enjolras has to admit it kind of sounds like the most dramatic and stupid thing ever. Then again, he likes to think it’s just because of Courfeyrac’s  ability to turn everything he says into something that might as well had been scripted as a part of a soap opera. Still, he nods.

Courfeyrac keeps staring at him for a minute before a wide grin spreads all over his face.

“Oh God, _I’m so in_.”

 

 

They all divide in couples and agree to go back to the flat at ten if none of them get lucky in the ‘ _Magical Mistletoe Quest to get Enjolras a Date_ ’ (a name proposed by Courfeyrac). That gives them one hour and a half to cover the area and in case someone gets a clue of where to find the mysterious man they have to communicate it immediately to the rest.

He’s walking with Combeferre, looking into some of the few art galleries who are still open in their zone. They get out of their third one, without any brand new information. They stop, waiting for the traffic light to change and Combeferre scoffs.

“You really couldn’t ask him out in a normal way, could you?” he asks, smirking and Enjolras snorts, taking him by the sleeve of his coat to get him to walk faster.   

 

 

By ten o’clock, that hopeful feeling Enjolras had has turned into a lump in his throat. No one called which can only mean no one found anything. Being realistic, he really shouldn’t have expected it. It was a terrible idea and he just wasted the time his friends could have used in having fun in a ridiculous quest to find his even more ridiculous crush.

They are the last ones to arrive at the apartment, where everyone goes silent the moment they step inside.

“We’re sorry Enjolras” says Cosette, squeezing his arm.

“Maybe we could try again tomorrow?” tries Bossuet and by his side, Joly nods.

Enjolras shrugs, trying to take importance to the matter.

“It’s ok guys, thank you” he smiles and if it looks a little strained no one comments it. Sometimes he forgets how amazing his friends can be.

He stays a little bit past eleven, just enough to give everyone their presents and get some in return. An alarming amount of red clothes, a couple of books and a gift card. He says goodbye and rejects Marius offering to drive him back to his apartment. He could use some fresh air and a walk, as if he hadn’t had enough of that a few hours ago.

He’s a few streets down the Louvre when it starts to snow and he steps up to get to his apartment before another snowstorm starts. He looks down, trying to keep part of his face warm with his scarf and it’s in that moment when someone who might as well be in a hurry trying to find refugee from the snow crashes against him.

“I’m sorry” he apologizes, looking up to see the stranger who seems to have frozen just a few steps behind him. _Oh_.

“Apollo” dark and curly says with a grin and Enjolras can tell his breath smells like wine “Seems like the sun has come out to try and share it’s warmth with us in this cold night.”

“It’s Enjolras” he says, and this sounds too familiar yet it’s too far apart for that moment “Not Apollo or Antinous, _Enjolras_.”

“Enjolras, of course” he says, and Enjolras’ heart jumps at the way the letters roll out of the other man’s mouth while he says his name “A perfect name for a perfect work of art.”

He feels his cheeks redden at his words, but he keeps frowning as he says “You’re drunk”.

“Thanks for stating the obviousness of my condition Ap… Enjolras” he says with a sarcastic grin, raising an eyebrow in the blond direction “But what brings you here Mr. Enjolras, shouldn’t you be at home enjoying the holidays with your lovely boyfriend?”

Enjolras sighs.

“Are you going far from here? I think you’re more drunk than what I thought and maybe you could use some help to…”

“I’m not a charity case, thank you very much” he answers, his muscles stifling in a defensive pose “Go back to your charities and your lovely blond boyfriend and I’ll go on my own.”  

He has never felt more confused in his whole life.

“Boyfriend? What are you talking about?”

The other man hazel eyes look at him like he can’t believe someone is capable of being so dense. Which isn’t the thing because Enjolras has no idea of what the fuck is going on.

His life is starting to look like a soap opera.   

 _His life is starting to look like a soap opera written by Courfeyrac_.  

“Pale, with blond long hair in a braid, the ugliest winter sweater I’ve the horror to see” he says and then stops, looking at him with curiosity “How many boyfriends you have?”

Now is Enjolras time to give him a glare of annoyance.

“As a matter of fact, none” he says, crossing his arms over his chest “And I presume you’re talking about Jehan, who is a friend of mine and is currently dating another of my best friends.”

Dark and curly blinks and combs backwards a couple of curls that are hanging over his eyes, wet with the snow that keeps falling over them.

“So, when he was holding your hand...”

“He was trying to comfort me” answers Enjolras, biting his tongue to stop himself from saying something like ‘because I thought you wouldn’t come, which by the way you didn’t’. 

Dark and curly stumbles back, until his back hits the bricked wall of a store and let’s himself slip until he’s sitting in the asphalt covered in snow. Enjolras remains silent, watching him with a blonde eyebrow arched.

“Leave me alone to die” he murmurs

Enjolras crouches in front of him “You didn’t come back because you thought I was dating Jehan?”

The guy, who is currently covering his face with his hands, peeks through his fingers and groans when he sees Enjolras face just a few centimeters from his “Is this some wicked punishment from the gods?”

He waits, shaking his head to get rid of the snowflakes that plaster some of his golden curls. The other man sighs.

“I guess I can’t make this worse anyway, right?” he says and then tells Enjolras to take a sit next to him in the snow. After considering it for a second, Enjolras does it “You’ll see, I met this stupid guy who was asking for money for a charity because for some reason I can’t quite comprehend he actually believes the world is a place worth saving even when everything around us seems to say otherwise; and this guy, this stupid perfect guy with the sun on his hair and face of a Greek god not only believes is possible but thinks _he_ can do something to change things and for some reason instead of thinking it was the most ridiculous bullshit I have ever heard I thought it was endearing” he pauses to take a breath, looking at his hands intertwined on his lap instead of looking at Enjolras “And I don’t believe for a second he will be able to do it, you know? Because even if he does care, the rest of the world doesn’t… But I believed… I _believe_ that he will keep trying and that seemed enough, you know?” he laughs under his breath, still not daring to make eye contact with him “But once I dared to believe so, I also believed I could stand a chance with him which was a total stupidity because what would a person that appears to have been sculpted by Michael Angelo himself would want to do with someone like me? So when I saw him holding hands with some cute guy I thought it would be easier to get over my delusion now that I knew I was just making a fool of myself.”

No one says anything before that. Enjolras feels his heart pounding on his ears as he tries to accommodate his thoughts after all this new information has been thrown. He feels some shuffling by his side and turns to look at the guy who’s trying to get up.

“What are you doin’?”

 “Excuse me, I don’t use to hang out with the people in front of who I just made a fool of myself” he answers, shrugging “Basic human instinct, I guess.”

“If it makes you feel better…” Enjolras says, not sure how to go on. However, the guy stops though he doesn’t turn back to look at him. After taking a breath, Enjolras tells himself honesty is the best policy “I spent the last two weeks pining over a stranger who I only saw four times, wondering why he never came back to my booth” Dark and curly turns his head a little, doubt written all over his features and Enjolras allows himself to take a step closer “And then I wasted not only my Christmas Eve but also my friend’s in an useless search party trying to find said stranger because I knew I would regret it the rest of my life if I didn’t ask him out.”

Again, the silence seems to install between the two of them. Eventually, dark and curly turns around so he’s facing Enjolras, cocking a brow in his direction.

“Why?” he asks “Why would you want that? Obviating our looks which leaves me in a terrible disadvantage against you, I just said all you believe in is bull crap and you still want to go out with me?”

“You said you believed in me” Enjolras takes another step closer “That means you believe, if only a little, that the world can be a better place.”

“I really don’t, Apollo” Enjolras snorts at the nickname, but doesn’t say anything “The only thing I believe is that you’re wasting your time in lost causes and trying to convince me to believe would just be another.”

“Then again, neither you nor me will know it if you don’t let me try first.”

“You’re going to be disappointed when it all ends, and I’m gonna be there to say I told you so.”

 “Would you shut up and kiss me already?”

The other man scoffs, but this time his smile seems to reach his hazel eyes making them shine “Only if you permit it.”

Enjolras closes the distance between them, bending slightly to get to the same size as the other man. Their lips are barely millimeters away and he can feel the other’s breath against his mouth when he stops, taking a step back his hands still leaning against the man’s chest who gives him a quizzical look.

“I don’t even know your name.”

The other guy seems to be trying to suppress a grin “Not important, it ain’t even that pretty.”

Enjolras glares at him and he sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Grantaire” he answers “Most people call me R, I work restoring painting on a gallery close to the Louvre and I really like red wine, do you want to know my blood type and social security number or…?”

Enjolras cuts him by finally pressing his lips to Grantaire’s. The snow keeps falling, feeling especially cold against his heated skin but he doesn’t do anything except tilt his head slightly to the right to get in a more comfortable position. One of Grantaire’s hand is in the lapels of his coat, the other tangled in the golden curls behind his neck.

Somewhere, a bell starts to ring, announcing midnight and with it, Christmas. Enjolras feels Grantaire smiling in the kiss and when they finally separate to take a breath, he gives him a curious look.

Dark and… Grantaire smile widens.

“Merry Winter Holidays Apollo” he says, and Enjolras rolls his eyes before kissing him again.

 _It’s is merry indeed_.


End file.
